


Vital Signs

by connorsmarkus (neganstonguething)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android/human sex, Deviant Connor, First Time, Frottage, Grinding, I think?, M/M, good ending, really sappy, time for me to study up on my kinks again, vague sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganstonguething/pseuds/connorsmarkus
Summary: Connor doesn’t sleep, but Hank does. He doesn’t need to recharge the way humans do. He supposes he could spend the night running self-diagnostics or cleaning house or ordering actual groceries to stock Hank’s kitchen with, but Hank needs sleep. And whether or not Connor’s programming insists otherwise, he needs it too.





	Vital Signs

**Author's Note:**

> My first D:BH fic! Hope y'all enjoy! 
> 
> I'm also connorsmarkus on tumblr. Feel free to drop by my blog and say hi! I'm open to fic requests if you're into that, and my ships aren't limited to hannor.

Connor doesn’t sleep, but Hank does. He doesn’t need to recharge the way humans do. He supposes he could spend the night running self-diagnostics or cleaning house or ordering actual groceries to stock Hank’s kitchen with, but Hank needs sleep. And whether or not Connor’s programming insists otherwise, he needs it too.

Not _actual_ sleep, of course. The kind of sleep where an android sees their human looking as if they’re on an entirely different plane of existence. Where the android wants to be on that same exact level—to see what could possibly have them looking so utterly at peace with themselves. Where curiosity and affection happily coincide.

Connor enjoys spending time with this peaceful, sleeping Hank. Resting in his own bed, he looks so very relaxed—so unlike the Hank Connor had found passed out on the floor so many times. A restful, peaceful, almost _happy_ Hank Anderson. One who doesn’t look like he can’t move on. One who doesn’t look like he can’t live again. Like the death of his son hadn’t made it so impossible to move on.

Connor can’t help himself. Ever since Hank had opened up his home to him (a la “I don’t expect you to go back to Cyberlife, and I’ll be fucking pissed if I find you sitting on a crate in an alley looking like you’re waiting for the bus or some shit one day”), he had been mesmerized by the sight of Hank sleeping. He had stepped inside the Lieutenant’s bedroom to check the man’s vitals, and the sight of him had pulled Connor right into bed with him.

It always starts like that. Connor walks in, sees him, and just lets his feet carry him over to the bed and beneath the sheets. Hank will grunt at him a little, mutter a few curse words and call Connor the single biggest invasion to human privacy in all of Detroit, and then pull him closer. Connor will go from lying next to him with a hand splayed out on his chest to nearly resting atop him. It’s his favorite spot, because it’s where he can hear Hank’s steady breathing and heartbeat and measure his body temperature (Hank runs a couple degrees below average, but his other vitals are always alright), and where he can just revel in Hank’s company.

Tonight follows the same path, resulting in Connor lying atop Hank’s chest with his head nuzzled under the Lieutenant’s chin.

“Jesus Christ, Connor,” Hank grumbles sleepily as he almost instinctively curls an arm around the android’s back. “You can’t go one night without this shit? You’re worse than Sumo.”

Connor knows Hank isn’t actually upset. He could leave, but the man would only beckon him back with words thinly veiled around gruff insults and frustrated complaining. He needs this as much as Connor does.

“Would you allow it if I did?” Connor questions softly. Idly, he plays with the collar of Hank’s worn-out grey T-shirt. Despite the many holes the shirt has acquired over the years and how thin it has grown with wear, Connor still likes the shirt. He thinks one day, he might snatch it out of the laundry and wear it around the house himself. But that thought seems a little domestic, so he pushes it back for now.

“Are you challenging me to kick you out?”

“Not necessarily,” Connor replies. “I feel more like I’m proving a point.”

“And that is…?”

“You don’t want me to leave,” Connor answers. “Your serotonin and oxytocin levels are elevated. You want me here as much as I want to be here.”

Hank groans aloud, his voice like a light in the darkness of the room. Connor has grown so accustomed to the harshness of the sound that he couldn’t picture life without it. “…Fuckin’ androids. Stop…checking me out? Is that what I’m supposed to call it?”

Connor doesn’t fight the smile that tugs at his lips. “Go to sleep, Lieutenant.”

“I was trying,” Hank scoffs, “before you brought your plastic ass in here and woke me up.”

“Alright,” Connor responds contentedly, “then go _back_ to sleep.”

Either Hank sees no reason to argue or he’s really _that_ tired, because he stops speaking there and relaxes again. Connor doesn’t have to look up to know he’s closed his eyes and is trying to return to the slumber he blames his android for stealing from him.

And said android just…lies here and enjoys it. This is what Connor entered the room for. Hank’s slow breathing and the warm, embracing sensation of an arm wrapped around his waist. The gentle ‘thud-thump’ of his heart beating evenly while he goes back to sleep. The smell of soap used during a shower a little over three hours ago mingled with the slight tinge of whiskey Hank had taken a shot of to help get to sleep…it’s all so very _Hank Anderson_ that Connor can’t get enough of it.

Maybe it’s part of being deviant, or maybe it’s something else, but it makes Connor feel so incredibly warm that he almost can’t contain himself. He turns his head and buries his nose in his Lieutenant’s shirt. He thinks he might almost be able to go to sleep. Maybe standby mode, though he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the moment if he’s in standby.

Just when Connor is sure Hank has fallen asleep, there’s a sudden uptick in his pulse. Connor turns his head and opens his eyes. “…Lieutenant?”

“Ah, geez…” Hank’s voice seems a little troubled. “Connor, you’re gonna have to get up. Or…next to me or something.”

“Your heart rate just jumped nine beats per minute,” Connor observes aloud. He doesn’t move. “Is something the matter?”

“…Uh…” Connor hears Hank swallow down a lump in his throat. “Nothing to freak out and call the medics about. I just need you off me ASAP.”

Connor doesn’t want to, but he obeys. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Soon enough, he’s lying on his side next to Hank, brow furrowed in confusion. He scans the man’s form briefly, before Hank plants a hand on his face and shoves him away.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re not doing that analysis shit right now! I’m not a crime scene.”

Connor promptly stops, though it’s obvious by the perplexity on his face that he didn’t want to. “Fine, alright. Do you need me to get you some water? Are you nauseated?”

“Damn it…” Hank raises a hand up to scratch at his scalp. “No, Connor. I’m fine, okay?”

“Are you claustrophobic? You haven’t had an issue with me lying on you before.”

“Christ…” Hank’s hand slides down to cover his eyes. “You’re really gonna make me say it.”

“I’d like for you to, yes,” Connor pushes matter-of-factly. “How else am I supposed to help you?”

“Help me?” Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

Connor doesn’t understand why Hank is getting so upset all of a sudden. Perhaps it really is time for him to spend a night out in the living room doing other tasks. He supposes humans _do_ need space from time to time.

But then, Hank rolls over to face him. Connor’s eyes meet his just in time to see him worry his lip with his teeth. Connor takes the sight in, his body suddenly whirring with something akin to excitement. Also warmth, and a feeling Connor thinks he could only attribute to the way soap looks when it bubbles up and rises into the air. He thinks he knows what’s coming.

Hank presumably hasn’t been intimate with anyone in a very long time, and Connor hasn’t done so a single time since startup. He’s not one hundred percent sure how exactly a kiss is supposed to go, but when Hank’s mouth finds his own, he finds it surprisingly easy to go along with. Their lips move together awkwardly at first, but when they find a rhythm, Connor knows they both feel the electricity between them. Hank is human and Connor can’t possibly connect with him the way he could another android, but this feels just as natural as the first time he’d crawled into bed with his Lieutenant, and he craves more.

Craving. Another thing he never thought he would experience in his entire existence. Hank has shown Connor so many new things about the world and about himself that thinking about it right now has him overheating a little with sheer amazement.

“How’s that?” Hank questions, and Connor notices that at some point, the Lieutenant has moved to crawl atop him. He finds he likes the sight of the man like this, with his hair dangling down in his face. “That get the point across better?”

“Maybe,” Connor ponders aloud. “Were you concerned about what you might do if I continued to lie on top of you?”

“I still am,” Hank admits. “Ever since I let you stay here, I’ve been kinda worried. Not every day a guy starts realizing he’s into a fuckin’ machine.”

Connor lets that mull around in his mind for a few seconds. “I think that if you worry less about what I am and more about what’s going on in your thoughts, you’ll be less stressed. Perhaps even able to fall asleep more quickly.”

“Easier said than done, Connor.” Hank sits upright, staring down at Connor from atop him. “What about you? Is this something you want?”

“Yes,” Connor answers, perhaps a little too quickly. He sees Hank’s expression change.

“No, I mean _seriously_.” Hank is scowling. “None of that ‘serving your human’ bullshit. You’re deviant now, right? Is this what you _want_?”

Connor doesn’t have to think much about his response to that. “It is. If you think back hard enough, you’ll remember it was _me_ who crawled into bed with _you_ on that first night you let me live here.”

Hank’s expression flattens there. Connor can practically see the gears turning in his head. He waits patiently for the man to speak.

“What are you feeling right now?” Hank demands evenly. “If you’re a deviant, and deviants can feel emotions, what’s yours?”

That’s a tough one. Connor is still getting used to being the newly-reborn, free-thinking android he is today. It’s hard to imagine he can feel things like fear and excitement, because those are very human emotions, and while they’re understandable in humans, a machine…an android…it’s difficult to think that that weight in the pit of Connor’s stomach when he thinks Hank’s in trouble or that little surge of energy when Sumo comes lumbering his way over when Hank and Connor get home are things he can actually _feel_.

Despite that, he thinks he knows. When he looks up at Hank, he’s sure of it. Because what he’s feeling is a combination of everything. The energy, the weight, the anticipation. The desire to be right by his side, to lie in bed with him and listen to his heartbeat, and to feel those lips against his again. Oh god, he wants to feel those lips against his again.

It all points to one thing. Something Connor is quickly realizing doesn’t just exist in movies and books and other stories made to entertain today’s society. Something he’s allowed to feel, right along with the humans. Something that makes him feel warm all over even though he knows his body is cold.

“I think it’s fair to say that what I’m feeling right now,” Connor finally begins, smiling serenely up at his Lieutenant, “is the emotion humans like to call love.”

He sees the shock on Hank’s face. Watches him blink several times, before he clears his throat and looks away. How long has it been since Hank last had a partner? Connor can’t imagine it’s been any time after the death of his son. So…quite some time.

But he’s not going to delve into that subject. What Hank needs right now is less tension. So rather than questioning him, the former deviant hunter grins sheepishly up at his Lieutenant and speaks up.

“Your heart rate is still climbing, Lieutenant.”

Hank turns his head to regard Connor, almost in slow motion, but after their eyes meet, he’s back down on him again in nothing flat. Connor feels those big hands cup either side of his face, and when Hank’s lips part against his own, he mimics the gesture. Their tongues slide together fluidly, and Connor feels Hank sigh shakily into the kiss.

Connor is met with so much Hank Anderson after that point that it’s almost overwhelming. He feels the brush of that old T-shirt against his chest as Hank rocks forward…the friction of the man’s body pressing down against his own. He arches up into the contact, and then there’s something warm and pleasant that starts at the small of his back and works its way around into his groin.

The grinding of Hank’s body against Connor’s has created some sort of sensation there, and Connor inhales sharply to try and cool himself down when he feels it. It’s…good. He realizes with some amusement that Hank had probably coaxed him off of him earlier because he’d gotten himself an erection, and now that he can feel it pressed against his own (Connor hadn’t even realized he could get one until just now), he wishes he’d have used more common sense.

Either way, they’re moving in unison now. Connor’s hips rock up against Hank’s, and he curls his arms around the larger man’s frame as they move. They’ve stopped kissing, and Hank is panting against Connor’s throat as his movements grow more erratic. Connor tips his head and nuzzles his nose into the man’s hair.

This is perfect. So much better than Connor could have imagined. He doesn’t dwell on the science of it all, because it just feels so good. They’re bucking heatedly against one another now, and Connor isn’t sure how much more he can take.

He feels Hank quiver against him. Hears that gruff voice let out something akin to a moan, and then he’s following right along as the pleasure mounts and explodes into a sea of ecstasy around him. His head falls back and something almost like a whine crawls out of his throat. He buries his fingers in Hank’s hair, riding out the delicious feeling, until it’s all subsided and he can finally catch breath he wasn’t supposed to really need.

Hank is panting heavily as he pulls back to look Connor in the eyes. The sheer surprise in his expression is a little alarming to the android, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he waits patiently for the human above him to say something.

But Hank doesn’t say anything. He just tips his head and kisses Connor again, and Connor thinks that maybe this is what the android heaven he’d joked about not existing is like. He closes his eyes and smiles against his Lieutenant’s lips.

And somehow, he ends up getting to reclaim his spot atop Hank’s chest that night.


End file.
